


remember-wonder-forget

by ohwhatagloomyshow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatagloomyshow/pseuds/ohwhatagloomyshow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started out as a one shot of Abigail thinking on some of the normal teen stuff her dad forced her to miss out on, but completely derailed from there and became poorly written and smutty. </p>
<p>Three segments of Abigail's thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remember-wonder-forget

Her knees are cold beneath the chilly silk sheets that feel more expensive than any dress her mother had ever owned. She closes her eyes and thinks about the first day of high school, when her mother tugged once more at her shirt hem and her father kissed her on the cheek and told her he loved her. Her hair fans out against the soft pillowcase and she remembers the first friend she made that day, the feel of those young, green-polished fingers plaiting her locks into braids the first time she invites the girl back to her home for snacks. There had been a falling-out after her father had mentioned their similar eyes—Abigail had screamed and called out nasty names she regretted but later was relieved about, and as her body warms the large bed she wonders how her life would have changed if she hadn’t said anything at all.

Will lets her play with the radio as he drives her back to the hospital from Hannibal’s dinner table. He doesn’t say a word as an unfamiliar Top 20 blasts between their uncomfortable silence. She wishes she knew the lyrics, recognized the melody. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes she probably would have known it in a parallel life, as she had missed Junior Prom for a college tour and the murder that always followed. It hadn’t saddened her then—she hadn’t bothered looking for a date and no one had asked—but it bothers her now, in the cheap upholstery of her father’s killer’s car. As she pulls her knees up to her chest she wonders how things would have gone differently if she had just plunged that kitchen knife deep deep into her father’s sleeping chest.

She likes the way his lips feel against her scar and she likes the way it feels to be overpowered—she hadn’t thought she would, having been under her father’s control for so long. But with Hannibal it’s different, and even though she knows she has no power he makes her think that she might, when he gasps after a particularly strong tug on his silver-blonde hair, and when he always makes sure that she comes before he does. The orgasms make her float above herself, make her forget that she is fucking a man older than her father. He waits for her patiently as she rides out the last of the pleasure, his eyes smug and loving and sometimes sad, edging on regretful. He lets her rest for only a moment, caressing the places where her hair is stuck to her neck and forehead, until she’s more than eager to return the favor. The sex never makes her remember or wonder, and she prefers it that way.


End file.
